I click on Brian’s number as I’m marching back to the cottage. When he answers on the second ring, I blurt, “Why didn’t you tell me Jazz is my half sister?”
He lets out a sigh. “How’d you find out?”
“I’ll tell you how I didn’t find out. From you. You should’ve told me, Uncle Brian. Instead, I had to hear it from my mother, who claims she realized it the first time she saw Jazz.”
“Then why didn’t she tell you? Hannah should’ve told you about your father a long time ago.”
“I won’t argue with that.” I burst through the door of the cottage, but the small living room is confining, and I leave again. Ignoring the pitch-black sky, I head up toward the barn.
“It doesn’t matter who did or didn’t tell me. The point is, I’ve been taking care of her all this time, and I should’ve known. By the way, Naomi’s back. She’s staying in the carriage house. Jazz is with her.”
“How does Naomi seem?”
I search for the right word. “Frazzled.”
“Hmm. Not good, considering she just got out of rehab.”
When the first raindrops begin to fall, I duck my head and keep walking. “I feel sorry for Jazz. She admitted she’s scared when she’s with her mother.”
“Do you think Naomi is physically abusing Jazz?”
“I honestly don’t know. Jazz told me that Naomi yells at her a lot, and sometimes when Naomi’s sleeping, Jazz can’t wake her up. But I was afraid to flat out ask Jazz if her mother hits her.”
“Do you want me to come to the farm, Stella? You sound like you could use a friend.”
“Friend? I hoped we could be friends, Brian. But now I’m not so sure. Friends are honest with each other. You’ve been anything but.”
“I haven’t been dishonest with you, Stella. I’ve been following Billy’s wishes. I worried this would happen. I warned him I was too close to the situation. I tried to convince him to let one of my law partners handle his estate, but he would hear nothing of it.”
I experience a new wave of anger, this time directed at Billy. The rest of them may have used me as a pawn, but Billy manipulated me. “Whatever. I can’t talk about this anymore. I gotta go.” I reach the barn and turn around, heading back to the cottage.
“Wait! Before you hang up, I want to thank you for what you did yesterday. Shaving your hair. . . that’s something Billy would’ve done.”
“Really? Because Opal says it’s something Mom would’ve done.”
He laughs. “Maybe. But for different reasons. Hannah would’ve done it for the thrill. Or to get attention. Billy would’ve done it for the show of love.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I say nothing, the sound of my heavy breathing filling the line.
“I have something for you,” Brian says. “Something Billy asked me to give you when the time was right. Can I drop it off? I won’t stay long.”
I’m intrigued, but I’m not in the mood to see Brian. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Call me.”
I end the call and click on Jack’s number. When I hear his voice, I fight back the tears. “Something’s happened, and I really need to see you. Can you come over?”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
I’m relieved when he doesn’t ask questions. I need to see his reaction when I tell him Jazz is my sister.
I’m nearing the cottage when the skies open up, and even though the rain pounds hard against my head and shoulders, I walk the rest of the way.
Five minutes later, I’m standing inside the door, water dripping off my clothes and pooling onto the floor at my feet, when Jack arrives.
“Stella. What is it? You’re scaring me.”
“Billy is Jazz’s father. She’s my half sister.”
I watch his face closely as disbelief transitions into confusion and then into that aha expression when everything makes sense. “You didn’t know, did you?”
He narrows his eyes. “How would I have known?”
“You knew Billy.”
“But not that well. How did you find out?”
“According to my mother, it’s quite apparent. Jazz has Billy’s eyes. Amber eyes are rare. Did you never notice them?”
He thinks about this a minute. “I can’t say that I did.”
The air conditioner kicks on, blowing cold air from the vent above my head. I begin to shake uncontrollably.
“You’re freezing. We need to get you into some dry clothes.” Jack disappears into the bedroom.
While he’s gone, I strip off all my clothes, dropping them in a wet mound at my feet. When he returns, I’m completely naked. He moves toward me with my bathrobe, but I snatch the garment from his hands and hurl it across the room. This is not how I imagined our first time together, but I can wait no longer. I’m all over Jack as I peel off his clothes. He takes me in his arms and kisses me. His skin warms me, and my shivers subside. He swoops me off my feet and carries me to the bed.
Our hands press against flesh as we paw at one another, desperate to get closer, to become one. When he enters me, his body consumes me, and I become whole. I’ve been on a long journey, working my way toward this man. I wasn’t born for Hannah or Billy. I was born to be with Jack. Our lovemaking is exquisite, raw passion coupled with our tender feelings for one another. We climax together, but he remains inside of me.
“I’m absolutely certain I felt the earth move,” he says, burying his face in my neck.
I laugh. “That was thunder.” I push his head up so I can see his face. “Did you mean what you said when you first saw my hair?”
“About me loving you?” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Of course I meant it. I love you with my whole heart.”
“And I love you too, Jack Snyder. I’ve never said that to a guy before. I’ve never been in love before. Please, don’t break my heart.”
“You have nothing to worry about. I will treasure your beautiful heart.”
As the storm rages outside, peace settles over me inside the cottage. We spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in bed, exploring each other’s bodies and sharing our deepest secrets. Around eight o’clock, when hunger gets the best of us, we’re forced to think about food. We’re rummaging through the contents of the refrigerator, me in my robe and Jack in his boxers, when there’s a loud knocking at the door.
The worst of the storm, the thunder and lightning, has moved on, but rain continues to fall in sheets. “I wonder who’s out in this weather,” I say, wrapping my robe tighter as I cross the living room to the door.
A wild-eyed and dripping-wet Naomi barges in. “Please tell me Jazz is with you.”
Cold dread travels my spine. “I haven’t seen Jazz since I left the carriage house hours ago.” I catch a whiff of alcohol and notice her bloodshot eyes. “You’ve been drinking.”
She wrings her hands. “It’s Cecily’s fault for leaving a bottle of wine in the refrigerator. The day has been so stressful. Facing ghosts, and Jazz has been difficult, complaining that she’d rather be with you. I just needed something to take the edge off.”
By facing ghosts, I assume she means Billy. But I don’t go there. I’m not her shrink. “So, you got drunk and lost your child in the worst storm of the summer.”
“I had a glass of wine while I reheated some mac and cheese and another while Jazz ate. They wouldn’t let me have my phone in rehab, so I was catching up on the news. Jazz went up to our room to get her iPad. But she never came back.”
I sense movement behind me, and Jack is at my side. “How much time passed before you went to check on her?
Naomi’s eyes fall to the floor. “As long as it took me to finish the bottle of wine. I found Jazz’s iPad in our room.”
My hands itch to throttle her neck. “Have you checked with my mom? Maybe she’s seen Jazz.”
“I went there first. The door was ajar, so I let myself in. Her suite’s empty, and her clothes are gone. I assume she left town. You don’t think she kidnapped Jazz, do you?”
With a stab of guilt, I remember my last conversation with her. No one wants you here, Mom. Do us all a favor. Come down off your weed cloud and get on the next plane back to New York.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Even though it’s not out of the realm of possibilities, it would be extreme, even for my crazy mother. “Did you call Derrick?”
“Yes. He hasn’t seen her.”
“Did you check all the closets and under the beds?” Jack asks.
Still staring at the floor, Naomi nods. “She’s not in the carriage house.”
When I fear my legs might give way, I lean into Jack. “Something’s wrong. Jazz would be too afraid to go out in the storm alone.”
Jack places a reassuring hand on the small of my back. “Think hard, Naomi. How long has Jazz been missing? Thirty minutes? An hour?”
“At least an hour,” she mumbles.
“We need to get on it.” He retrieves our cell phones from the bedroom, handing me mine. “See if you can get through to your on-duty security officer while I contact the police.”
Jack and I spring into action while Naomi stands by watching us. My first call isn’t to Martin but to my mom. When the call goes straight to voicemail, I leave an urgent message and follow up with a text, asking her to get in touch with me ASAP.
Martin reports that he hasn’t seen Jazz, or signs of anything out of the ordinary, but he promises to call in reinforcements.
Our calls concluded, Jack and I retreat to the bedroom, and we’re finishing getting dressed when three patrol cars, with two officers in each, arrive ten minutes later.
The air in my living room quickly becomes stifling with so many bodies pressed tight. Officer Kennedy—an imposing man, tall and bald—takes charge, asking Naomi the pertinent questions. Where was Jazz last seen? And what was she wearing.
To her credit, Naomi leaves nothing out when she walks him through the events of the evening. But she can’t remember what Jazz was wearing and can’t find a picture of her daughter on her phone to show him.
I lock eyes with Naomi. “When I left Jazz with you earlier, she was still wearing her dress from church. Did she change clothes after that?”
Naomi hugs herself. “Not that I’m aware of.”
I turn to Kennedy who’s taking notes on an iPad. “The dress was sleeveless, blue-and-white seersucker with red flowers embroidered on the fabric.”
I whip out my phone and scroll through my pictures. Kennedy gives me his cell number, and I text him three of the clearest images of Jazz.
“Should you issue an Amber alert?” Jack asks.
Kennedy shakes his head. “Not unless we have reason to believe the child has been abducted. Where is the child’s father?”
“Her father is dead, and my soon-to-be ex-husband says he hasn’t seen her. But you should verify this.” Naomi provides Derrick’s contact information.
Kennedy points at Naomi. “You need to go back to the carriage house in case your daughter returns.” He gestures at the only female officer in the room. “Officer Stevenson will go with you.”
To me, Kennedy says, “I want you to call your friends, family, and neighbors, and organize a search party. We need all hands on deck. It’s nasty out tonight, and we have a lot of ground to cover.”
As the others are dispersing, I pull Kennedy aside. “In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that my mother was staying in the other suite in the carriage house. We had a bit of a disagreement earlier. According to Naomi, her room has been cleared out. If she left town, she didn’t say goodbye. She would never intentionally hurt anyone. But this might be some kind of sick prank to get back at me.” I give him Mom’s cell number and provide a physical description of her and the rental car she’s driving.
I call Katherine, Cecily, and Brian while Jack contacts his two most trusted workmen. Everyone arrives within thirty minutes. The men help the police search the grounds while Cecily, Katherine, and I cover the inside of the main building. We start on the top floor and work our way down. The process is tedious. There are tools and building materials stacked up in nearly every room. We’re combing through the main floor when Brian calls with an update.
“The police located your Mom, who swears she knows nothing of Jazz’s whereabouts. She was at the airport in Roanoke, waiting for a flight to New York. Her flight was canceled due to the storm. She’s headed back to Hope Springs now.”
“I’m relieved, and I’m not. I was hoping for some strange reason that Jazz was with her. How’s the search coming on your end?”
“We’re scouring the grounds. We’ve checked the obvious places, the barn and summer house and the site for the new storage building. So far, we’ve seen no sign of her. I’ll stay in touch.”
When we finish at the main building, we head over to the carriage house. Mom is seated at the table with Naomi and Officer Stevenson. We don’t speak, and our eyes don’t meet. In the kitchen, Cecily makes a fresh pot of coffee while Katherine and I throw together a plate of cheeses and crackers. We’re serving our snacks to the others when Officer Stevenson receives the message that Bernard is holding Jazz hostage in one of the cottages on Cottage Row.
My vision blurs with red hot fury. “I’m gonna kill him.”
I take off toward the cottages with the others on my heels. The rain has finally stopped, but the ground is muddy, and more than once, I nearly lose my footing. We find the other members of the search party, officers and civilians, hiding behind a stand of trees a hundred feet away from the furthest cottage.
I ask Kennedy, “Are you certain it’s Bernard? And that he has Jazz with him?”
“Yes, ma’am. One of my men spotted them through the window. Bernard fired at him, so we know he’s armed. We’re trying to communicate with him, to find out his demands, but he either doesn’t have his cell phone with him or he’s ignoring our calls.”
Before he can stop me, I make a dash toward the cottage. Kennedy runs after me. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to talk some sense into that crazy old kook.”
He grabs my arm, but I shrug him off. When I near the cottage, I crouch down in front of the porch. “Here, wear this.” Kennedy tosses a bulletproof vest at me with one hand as he unholsters his revolver with the other.
“Bernard!” I call out. “It’s Stella. We need to talk. This is between you and me. Let Jazz go.”
Bernard responds by throwing his boot through the window. It tumbles across the wooden porch floor toward us.
Jack appears at my side. “Stella, are you crazy? Let the police handle this.”
“Too late now.” Cupping my hands around my mouth, I yell, “If it’s money you want, Bernard, just tell me how much.”
Bernard’s voice booms out from within. “You ain’t nothing like your father, Stella. He would never have fired me. He was a good man.”
Kennedy whispers to me, “Don’t argue with him.”
“You’re right, Bernard. Billy was a good man. And I know he was your friend. Did you know that Jazz is his daughter?” I can’t see my sister, but I imagine the surprise on her sweet face at hearing this news. I hate for her to find out this way. I wanted to tell her myself.
“You’re lying,” Bernard hollers.
“Look at her eyes!”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bernard says, his voice now muffled.
“Let her go, Bernard, and I’ll make sure you get the help you need.”
“I’m too old for prison,” Bernard yells.
“No one said anything about prison,” Kennedy responds.
“Please, Bernard,” I beg. “I just found out today that Jazz is my little sister. Give us a chance to be a family. Billy arranged for me to come to Hope Springs so that Jazz and I could be together.” Although I don’t know for certain if this is true, I’d be willing to bet this is what my father had in mind.
After an excruciating long moment of silence ensues, we hear, “Aw, heck. Get on outta here.”
The pitter-patter of little feet against hardwood floors is followed by the screeching of the front door opening. Jazz is in my arms and, together with Jack, we run away from the cottage, back into the woods.